


The only thing

by mhunter10



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Angst, Bipolar Ian, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-23
Updated: 2018-01-23
Packaged: 2019-03-08 11:19:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13457154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mhunter10/pseuds/mhunter10
Summary: Set sometime when Shameless didn’t suck major donkey balls, Mickey takes care of Ian as he comes out of a minor depressive phase.





	The only thing

There's something different about the voice calling his name now. It's almost as if it's not another dream conjured from the depths of his stressed and tired mind. But it's like an echo, at first, before the fog clears and he's more awake. Coming to, he can definitely tell it's really happening, and he can definitely tell it's Ian.

Fuck. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep, but after forcing himself to stay awake for so long, he's surprised his body hadn’t done it sooner; a betrayal, none the less.

"Mick?" Ian says again, his voice weak and cracking from disuse. But he ventures a shaky hand out to touch Mickey’s shoulder and that's what fully gets him out of his coma.

Mickey blinks rapidly to adjust his eyes to the time of day spilling into the window, and turns his head then his whole body to his boyfriend. The mattress squeaks under his weight and he can feel the ache shooting up his spine from laying wrong on its shitty springs. He knows that can't be good on Ian either, but it's another problem to the pile that seemed to be getting higher lately. But there's Ian, looking at him with eyes full of purpose after so long, and the corner of his mouth lifts in a slight smile meant to say  _I'm alright, it's okay, I'm sorry._

"Hey," Mickey says, surprised by the sudden lump of emotion in his throat. He wants to reach out and grab at the man in the bed next to him. He wants to hug him tight. He wants to kiss him. It’s like this every time, no matter how bad it gets. He can’t help it. Part of him wonders if this is how Ian felt every time he came sauntering out of the system after a dime. He’s embarrassed by how close he'd been to doing real time with Ian’s diagnosis hanging over everyone. It'd been stupid, but he got lucky.

"You good?" He asks, like always because it's become their thing; not too heavy but just enough to know they're out of the woods. His fingers itch to touch Ian.

Ian nods once, pauses like he’s checking for a feeling, then nods again like he’s confirmed it indefinitely. "I look like crap and I need a snack," he jokes, ruffling his own bed hair.

Mickey feels the warmth flood back into his whole life, finally leaning forward to connect his smile with Ian’s. His lips are dry but feel good against his own. He’s missed this. He doesn’t know why but any sort of intimacy while Ian is manic feels off. Maybe it's because it feels like Ian isn’t really present, but Mickey doesn’t like to touch him more than necessary. So feeling Ian’s hand cup his face as they kiss feels like rain in the desert. When they pull apart, they rest their foreheads together and just breathe the same air for a bit.

"I hate this mattress," Ian states.

"Yeah. Fuck this mattress," Mickey agrees because it feels so good to have Ian talking to him again. He leans away after another kiss and makes to get up. "What do you want?"

Ian flops back onto the hated bed, his energy still not back to normal. "Water." He smacks his lips to emphasize his thirst.

"And?" Mickey tries his best to stretch out the crick in his neck and shoulders, but it's no use. "We got some day old donuts, but I could make you something if you want. I think we got eggs or lunch meat, or I could go out if you want something else," he rambles, glad to be doing something besides waiting and worrying.

Ian turns on his side and props himself up on his elbow. He’s grinning like he hasn't just come out of a four day depressive state, and it’s a little scary to be honest. But it's also totally Ian and confirms that fact to be true. The more Mickey looks at him, the more he seems like he’s...back.

"What?" Mickey feigns annoyance terribly, so he hides his excitement by massaging out a stubborn kink.

Ian shrugs and plays with the sheets. "The only thing I want is you, but I'll settle for water and whatever isn't rock hard," he smiles coyly.

Mickey rolls his eyes and shakes his head. And he knows what Ian is doing; trying to rush back into their kind of normal because he’s scared he could slip back under at any moment and disappoint him. He can’t help the way his body responds, and he knows Ian knows that, but he’s determined to get him all the way stable before they do anything about it.

"Guess that leaves me out," he teases, knowing Ian understands he needs to take care of him in other ways first. "I said they were a day old, not stale. Take it or leave it," he adds.

"Anything with sprinkles then," Ian says, maneuvering himself slowly out of the bed. He rolls his shoulders and twists his body with some effort, wincing a little as it all comes back to life.

"Fucking gay," Mickey comments, leaving because he wants to get Ian that water and maybe some of the pain pills the doctor said was okay to mix with his regular meds. He hears Ian snort.

When he returns with a full glass of water and a plate with a donut for each of them, Ian is coming back from the bathroom. He’s changed into one of Mickey’s shirts and has washed his face, evident by the darkness of his damp hair. He climbs into the bed next to Mickey, kissing the side of his mouth as he chews his own chocolate glazed treat. He doesn’t say anything about the myriad of pills on the plate, he just swallows them all til the glass is empty. He let's out a sigh when he finishes, like he was sipping a Coke on a hot day.

"Better?" Mickey asks, licking chocolate from his lips and fingers, as he watches Ian dig into the frosted and sprinkled donut he requested.

"Much," Ian mumbles around a mouthful of slightly less soft dough.

They eat in silence, but soon enough they can't keep from indulging in long, slow, sugary kisses that last until they can't breathe. A few tears spill from Ian’s eyes, the lingering effects of the chemicals in his brain trying to sort themselves out, because he's sorry this won't ever be the last time and because he hates the disease and himself. Mickey calms him with a few words, mainly it's just  _love_ over and over again, but mostly he holds him until it passes because it always does.

That's the only thing that matters.

**Author's Note:**

> Just checking to see if I can still write...before updating Sugar Daddy, but you didn't hear that from me
> 
> Title from the predictive text on my phone
> 
> Don’t find me on tumblrdotcom


End file.
